Denial and Draco: 'Smuggle Style
by KawaiiKragh
Summary: -ON HIATUS- Harry Potter left the Wizarding World after the Final Battle against Voldemort, leaving behind his Wizard heritage. Now Dumbledore, the senile old man, sends out Draco Malfoy to retrieve him. What a great idea, huh? PostOotP, SLASH YAOI
1. Domestic Mockery

Denial and Draco: 'Smuggle-style

Chapter 1 - Domestic Mockery

Summary: Harry Potter left the Wizarding World after the Final Battle against Voldemort. Now Dumbledore sends Draco Malfoy out to retrieve him. What a great idea. SLASH/YAOI

Author: KawaiiKragh

Rating: T (for the moment, at least)

Disclaimer: Do not own, do not profit. Do not sue.

Warnings: This is slash! Meaning boy on boy. If you do not like it, do not read it! I'm not poking your eyeballs in the direction of the screen or something - you are here on your own free will, so your wee, bigoted, pink flames will be used only for roasting ants and other flamers. Oh, and I had better warn you about my sad attempts at humour.

In simple words: No likey, no ready.

A/N: This is my first uploaded fan fiction. I am currently also working on editing my first ever written fan fiction, Butterflies and Hurricanes and on its sequel. Enjoy!

* * *

Harry Potter grumbled under his breath as he walked out of his bathroom. The damned toilet was clogged up again. He half expected the useless thing to explode into his face some day; the gurgling sounds were mildly disturbing and the prospect of getting days old shit and piss in his face was… unattractive at its best.

It was times like these he almost wished that he was still a wizard… well, he was still a wizard, as proven by the several crushed shot glasses from when some random guy or girl would piss him off at the bar; he was just denying it for the time being. He had left the Wizarding World when he won the Final Battle against his high and mighty, and now very much dead, Mr. "I'm-a-doll-tormenter" in his seventh year of Hogwarts.

It was actually a rather anti-climatic finale, since Harry had just used some throwing knives, magic induced speed and an apathetic "incendio".

Even though he had finished off snake-face, Harry knew that Dumbledore would demand more of him - like teaching - and Harry was not ready for that yet. He needed a break from the Wizarding World. Never mind that his little time out had already lasted near two years. He had never really forgiven Dumbledore for not preparing him - he knew he had to face Voldemort at some time, but he had not lifted a finger to help him. Harry had had to approach his teacher on his own, to ask the experienced man to teach him. Not that he hated Dumbledore; the man was too much of a grandfather for him to hate him.

Shaking off the troublesome memories, he proceeded to walk through his rather spacious living room and into his dark painted bedroom. The big queen-sized bed took up one wall, while a typical dresser and a cluttered desk occupied the second. A somewhat battered, black TV was placed ostensibly impulsively on an upturned wooden beer box against the wall opposite the bed, while a mountain of… yeah, a lot things, including a pair of old, badly smelling socks, some play station games that clearly has seen better days and various, brightly coloured bottles of booze.

Harry tripped a few times as he headed to his dresser, the floor strewn with a chaotic cluster of dirty clothes, broken alarm clocks, CDS and other rubbish.

"Man, maybe Spiky was right," Harry admitted grudgingly. "Perhaps I really should clean up a little in here…"

Just the thought made him go into convulsions. The thought of all those half-rotten plates, half-empty soda cans and all the other disgusting trash, gave him the shivers right down to his crotch. He needed a woman.

Another seizure. Okay, maybe not a woman then! That should be pretty much established now, he reminded himself sternly.

It had been a rather… _big… _surprise when he realised that the males interested him more than the females. The young Hogwarts-Harry, being sexually unhealthy and rather naïve had not really thought about girls or boys. There was just the socially right thing to do, and being the Gryffindor Golden Boy, he, of course, assumed that it was what being expected of him.

Although he did not have a boyfriend, he still had Spiky, his amiable, if a bit unstable, neighbour for when they both needed an outlet in the form of sexual pleasure. And what pleasure that was. It was heaven to have a friend like that, especially since they could distinct between their friends-time and lovers-time, so that no one got hurt.

Just as he was trying to get into a large, black and wickedly comfortable hoodie, his cell phone rang. Still with his head inside the shirt and with only one arm in the correct hole, he stumbled blindly into his living room again. After nearly crashing into the leather sofa and tripping over his bag, he reached his cell phone, which was lying oh-so innocently at the counter, still ringing out that ridiculous tone Spiky had chosen for him.

After a mighty fight with the cellular phone, he managed to get it inside the hoodie to his ear and press the little green button.

"Hiya!" he said cheerfully, his voice muffled a bit by the shirt.

"Harry?" Spiky's slightly hazy voice travelled into his ear from the earpiece, doubtlessly muffled by the chronic cigarette that constantly dangled from his lips.

"That's my name, wanna buy it?" he chuckled, fighting vigorously with his hoodie.

"Do you take credit cards?" Spiky asked seriously.

"I sure do! I take yours up my arse very Sunday!"

A laugh broke up their little game.

"Don't I know," came Spiky's playful voice. "Anyway, Noah just called me. He said Liam had called in sick, so he asked if we could cover a little earlier than expected. There's a lot of people at the bar tonight, apparently."

Harry cursed. Now he would not be able to catch the quick dinner he had planned for himself.

"Ah, I guess," he said vaguely, already trying to get the baggy hoodie off; being a bartender demanded nice clothes, after all. "Just be sure to tell Noah that I expect to be greeted with a dinner in the face when I get there. See you in the hallway!"

"Oh, and Harry?"

"Yes?"

"Quit talking inside your shirts - it sounds like you're talking from Mars and not across the hall."

**HPDMHPDMHPDMHPDM**

"Ah, Headmaster, if I may ask a teeny weeny, trivial question?"

"But of course, Mr. Malfoy!" the Headmaster said merrily, his twinkling eyes locked on the young, blonde man seated in front of him.

"Have you gone insane?" came the perfectly even and polite question, the young man's incredulity only given away by his tightly clasped fist.

Dumbledore chuckled. The young ones always kept his the best entertained - well, except for Severus; that man was truly amusing. Not that he wanted to be, mind you.

"Now that you mention it, a very accomplished doctor from the Janus Thickey Ward at St. Mungo's actually implied that…"

"It doesn't matter, old man!" Draco exclaimed and threw his hands into the air. "There is no way _Harry Potter _would ever let me convince him to bring his scared ass back to the Wizarding World nor let me into his home, for that matter! Besides, I know absolutely nothing of the Muggle World!"

"Come now, Draco," The Headmaster looked far too amused for Draco's liking. "It would be a useful experience and, as you have told Severus on several occasions, you would like to sort out your differences with Harry."

Draco took a mental note to whack Severus over the head.

"Furthermore, I'm sure you will be able to figure out a way to make Harry let you in. You were, after all, one of the top students in your year…"

"Flattery will get you nowhere, Headmaster." Draco raised a delicate eyebrow and lifted his chin arrogantly.

"…and I dare say that I never have seen such a beautiful man before in life - how many love letters did you receive from your fans this week, Draco?"

Draco flicked his long, white-blond hair over his shoulder and smirked smugly.

"Oh, a couple of hundreds, take or give a few," he said, nonchalantly inspecting his perfectly manicured nails and tried to hide self-satisfied grin. "As I was saying, I'll be sure to discover a way to bring back Potter with my most clever and gorgeous head. If anyone can do this, it is most certainly me, Headmaster."

**HPDMHPDMHPDMHPDM**

"You will WHAT!?" Lucius Malfoy's voice reverberated in the large, magnificent lounge, where the two white-blonds were currently reclining in the comfortable, white leather furniture. Or, one of them were lounging lazily, while the other, bigger one was sitting rigidly on the edge of his seat, his breathing hurried and a dangerous glint in his light, grey eyes.

"Oh, calm down, Father," Draco said, idly waving a hand gracefully to calm his father. "I think I heard your pants rip."

Lucius looked over his shoulder to his behind distractedly, but soon returned his attention back to the young man sitting opposite him. He almost whined wretchedly, but stopped the pitiful sound from coming out in the last minute. He would not want to break his precious reputation, even if it was just in front of his own son.

"Draco, you can't just leave!" Hm, that came suspiciously close to a whimper. He cleared his throat. "You know I wanted you to take over the family finances this summer!"

'_Which is exactly why I agreed to this,' _Draco thought sneakily to himself with an inward smirk. He had sounded reluctant to go, but at the same time acted as if he could be convinced with a little work. In all actuality, he was overjoyed when he found out about his assignment - only the well-horned acting abilities he had used to interrogate his fellow Slytherins and non-fellow Death Eaters-in-training had kept him from smiling his face off. Draco had figured out from an early age that people would give you everything if they are desperate and you are reluctant - he loved Lucius, really. As Dumbledore said, he was anxious to apologise to Potter and eat of the humble pie for all the things he had done in the past. Even though they had been forced to work together through sixth and seventh year, they never really had forgiven each other… or, Harry had not forgiven him.

"I'm sorry, Father, but I think I owe it to Dumbledore," he said and looked into his Father's eyes. _Snort. Like I would actually pay him back, even if I _did_ owe him something. Which I don't. _

But it worked beautifully. Lucius liked to pay back his debts as soon as possible - less chance for the enemy to think something up to demand of him.

"Yes, yes, of course," Lucius sighed. Draco smirked - inwardly of course. "But why choose you, of all people, to bring back Potter? It is destined to turn into a fight of some sorts, when it comes to you two. I wouldn't be surprised to find that you had torn off his neck, rather than bring him back!"

_Aw… Now that was just an evil thing to say…_

"Do you really hold that little faith in me, Father?" he asked dully, his big, grey eyes locked on those of his father. He added a bit of moisture to make him look real pitiful.

Lucius' face turned into a grimace. He hoped Draco would forget this, because this was really humiliating. His twitched painfully as he leaned forward, and placed his arms around his son. Oh, he could just see Severus laughing his head off and telling the rest of the staff how soft he was becoming in his old years. Bastard. Now he wanted to cry.

"No, of course not," he said, as steady as possible, which was not steady at all. In his mind, he was picking up the broken pieces of his pride, while Draco was snuggling into his shoulder.

_Jackpot. _

**HPDMHPDMHPDMHPDM**

Draco was lying in his bed in his teacher quarters, that were just beside Severus', in Hogwarts' dungeon, when his white cat, Morph, jumped up gracefully and settled on his bare chest after a few rounds. He absentmindedly scratched the beautiful cat behind its ears, making it purr in content.

And suddenly, an idea struck him like lightening and made a yellow light bulb beam enthusiastically above his head. He sat up suddenly, almost forgetting to catch the pissed off Morph, who had fallen gracelessly off his chest.

"I'm brilliant," he said, in awe of himself. "Absolutely genius!"

_

* * *

_

_Thank you for reading! Give me a review if you want me to continue this, as I'm not completely sure as to how good it is. Please? _

_End of the first chapter._


	2. The Plan

Denial and Draco: 'Smuggle-style

Chapter 2 - The _Plan_

Author: KawaiiKragh

Rating: T (for now, at least)

Disclaimer: Do not own, do not profit. Do not sue.

Warnings: This is slash! Meaning boy on boy. No likey, no ready. Once again, I must warn about my lame humour.

A/N: Characters are probably horribly OOC and stuff, but that's one of the great things about fan fiction XD

I really think I messed up the time in this chapter, but I tried XD This is actually just a part of one chapter, but since the chapter got faaar too long, I decided to split it up. I'm nearly done with the other part, so that will probably be posted later tonight or tomorrow. I'm not going to promise anything, because Denmark is currently suffering from a violent snow-attack I have already lost the internet once.. wince that was horrible..

I got a question from one of my reviewers asking if Dumbledore is trying to rule Harry's life or something. The answer is no. Dumbledore is not trying to rule over Harry or anything, but Harry is still the Boy Who Lived and the Wizarding World's Saviour. Of course they would want him back, just as Beckham-fans want Beckham to show his face once in a while ( bad example, I know ;; )

* * *

Draco was grumpy. Good, old-fashioned, Severus-styled grumpy. He was starving, he was filthy and his attire was so not in. And not to mention cold. He was very cold. Because of those _rags, _he had to wear. Malfoys did not wear rags, but rather tailored, first-class clothing with incorporated Warming Charms and Anti-Ripping spells to prevent anything embarrassing from happening. If only his Father could see him now…

* * *

It started five days ago, when Draco had had his 'epiphany'. After getting viciously clawed half to death by his cat, Morph, he had raced to his personal fireplace, nearly scaring the life out of his grandfather, Abraxas Malfoy, who had been sleeping peacefully in his gold frame. After nearly hurling Floo Powder all over his floor in his haste and whacking his head on the mantel, he had finally been able to scream the name of his best friend, Blaise Zabini, who was currently working as… Well, he did not work, but in stead depended on his rather large share of the family fortune. That good-for-nothing sloth.

"Whaddya want, Draco?" Blaise had said when he had answered the firecall, his eyes bleary and voice hoarse.

"Blaise! I'll give you a bottle of my custom-made shampoo and those dark chocolates if you do this for me…"

After he had dealt with Blaise, and consequently losing one of his precious bottles of the finest hair care that existed in the entire Wizarding World, Draco had hurriedly grabbed and put on the pyjama top that matched his black pyjama pants and proceeded to rush at full speed out of his bedroom, through his painstakingly orderly sitting room and into the dark, empty hallway.

Here he had done a ninety degree turn, and dashed in the direction of Severus' door further down the hallway. His bare feet had slapped noisily and painfully against the cold, hard stone that was the floor. Arriving at Severus' door, panting in excitement, and taking no heed of all the sleeping students just a few additional feet further down the corridor, he had pounded like mad on the door, until a far from awake Severus had opened it groggily, not really looking at the source of the disturbance of his beauty sleep before speaking.

"Please, little first year, come on in and go to sleep on my couch if you're feeling homesick, since my dark, arctic and somewhat humid quarters certainly are the best place to cure such a malady." the whole sentence had been said with sluggishness that Severus only let his Slytherins witness. He had, of course, threatened the audience with neutering for the boys and with pimples by the size of roosters for the girls if they dared to reveal that piece of information. McGonagall, the fool, would have a field day if she knew that the always-stony Snape could be so 'human'. Che.

"Do I look like a first year to you, Severus?" Draco had huffed with a frown while staring up at his former teacher and now co-worker, instantly brought down from his excitement by Severus' unsympathetic demeanour.

With a glance at Draco's slender, pyjama-clad body, Severus had woken up a little and had given Draco one of his best smirks. "Now that you mention it, Draco, you do blend in rather well with the fifth years. The fifth year _girls_, to be exact."

Draco's lips had settled into a displeasured pout. His height was a sore spot that made him privately cringe every time someone pointed it out to him. He did not mind the unmistakable doubt towards his gender as much as he probably should - he knew he looked like a girly little pretty boy, his long, blonde hair not helping to eliminate the image in the least. Despite him looking like a miniature replica of his father when he was younger, he had ultimately come to look a lot more like his dear Mother, Narcissa.

"Now is not the time to develop a sense of humour, Sev!" Draco had snapped. He had pushed Severus aside and walked into his quarters with his nose in the air, looking as dignified as possible when dressed in a pyjama with his name written in silver all over the top. He was not at all embarrassed.

"Oh, yes, Mr. Malfoy," Severus had chuckled. "I will try my best to keep my inner comedian at bay, just to keep you satisfied."

"Be sure you do," had the self-important reply been.

Severus had closed the door after the toffee-nosed young man and laughed quietly to himself. They had worked together for nearly two years now, the blonde having applied for the position as the Potions Master's assistant immediately after graduating. He, of course, had granted the brat's wishes… as always.

The little monster really had him wrapped around his elegant pinkie, didn't he?

After seating himself on Severus', surprise!, black couch, Draco had told Severus everything Dumbledore had said to him, Severus coming with comments like, "batty old man" and "what in Merlin's name is he thinking" from his seat in the big, old armchair by the empty fireplace.

"What price are you doing this for, Draco?" Severus had asked with a frown, adding more wrinkles to his forehead.

Draco had twiddled with his perfectly manicured fingers and whistled an off-key song he could distantly remember Potter whistling at some point in time.

"For nothing?!" It was funny how outraged and incredulous Severus had sounded when he had almost yelled the question. "Dear Merlin, don't tell me Lucius and I both failed to make you a proper Slytherin? It would break my fragile heart, Draco." _Oh Merlin, is it possible to pay for lessons in humour? _Draco had thought to himself. Severus sorely needed it.

"Oh, I'll get my _reward_ all in due time, Severus," he had leered at no one in particular, with a self-assured smirk on his lips. He had draped an arm over the back of the couch in a nonchalant manner, smirk still in place.

Severus had gotten a sour expression on his face at his suggestive comment, as if he had been force-fed several lemons.

"I do not want to hear any more of your disgusting gushing over that damned Potter, Draco, so please refrain from sharing your perverse thoughts involving Potter-it will deep-fry my brain someday."

Draco just laughed at his godfather. Severus did not hate Potter as much as he always pretended, but was actually a little fond of the boy. Especially after Potter had grown a brain and approached Severus with the request of some intensive training from the older man. Draco supposed the snappy man was too used to hate him.

"I'll keep the fantasies to the bedroom then," he breathed erotically, and moaned what sounded suspiciously like Potter's name, his wide grin kind of ruining the effect, but it had been successful nonetheless.

Severus' eye had twitched horribly and he had been greatly tempted to gag, but he did not. That would be repulsive and beneath him by miles. He had coughed and made an attempt to drag the original subject to the surface, if only to get away from their little conversational detour.

"So," he had started, still trying to control the tics his eye was having. "Do you have any idea how you're going to convince Potter to go back with you?"

Draco had jumped in his seat, his mouth widening into a grin, having obviously forgotten about the reason _why _he had raced down the corridor like a madman and hammered on his door like a retired drummer on drugs. Go figure.

"Oh yeah! I have the greatest idea, Severus!" he had exclaimed, bouncing in his chair like a retarded monkey. "Really, I'm so smart that it frightens me sometimes!"

Severus had only lifted a dubious eyebrow. Needed he say anything to this?

"First, I'm going to appeal to his Gryffindorish-ness and that hero-complex of his by looking like a beggar. I'll sit outside his home, wherever that is, and look real pitiful and poor and Potter will take me inside his home to care for me, and he will get attached to my cuteness and never let me go, so when I decide to go back, he will automatically tag along with me and then we'll have hot, kinky…"

"Draco! I get the point - no details, thank you!"

The tics had come back. Damn.

Draco had smirked, but had thankfully settled down again, only to stare expectantly at Severus, evidently demanding praise for his superior thinking.

"What if Potter, by chance, doesn't "take you home and get attached to you", Draco?" Severus asked and shifted into a more comfortable position. It was going to be a looong night.

"Then, dear Godfather, I set my _Master-Plan _into the works," Draco had answered in a dramatic whisper and leaned conspiratorially forward.

"And what, exactly, does this plan involve?" he had asked, unable to resist leaning forward too. Draco was a good narrator. Too good.

"A cat."

Did you hear the painful crash the now pulverized suspense made as it connected with the ground?

"What?"

"A cat."

Silence.

"A cat?!"

Draco had made a noncommittal sound in his throat, confirming the aggressively asked question. Severus really needed some therapy for that bad temper.

"You better be joking, Draco," Severus had growled. He had _not _just dragged his arse out of his comfortable bed to listen to a delirious Draco Malfoy ramble on about a potty cat. Over his dead body.

"Say April Fool." He had demanded rigidly.

"But, Severus, we're only in March…" Draco had trailed off here, since his godfather's eyes flash with annoyance. "April Fool." he had said with a tiny, sad voice and looked timidly at Severus with those big grey, watery eyes.

Severus' anger had crumbled like a softly nudged house of cards. Damn those eyes. He was not going soft, nuh-uh.

"Alright!" he had snapped, unable to stand those eyes any longer. "Just tell me what that goddamned plan of yours is about, and do it quickly!"

Draco's smile had been dazzling. Damned brat.

"Okay, here it goes," Draco had started excitedly, bouncing in his seat like a retard again. "I will somehow transform myself into what I call a catboy and _then_ win Potter's sympathy."

Thick silence.

"I'm going back to bed."

"No, wait, Severus," Draco had called as Severus had stalked irately to his bedroom. "Come on, I'm serious! If you can somehow modify the Polyjuice Potion and make it suitable for animals, I can make it look like I'm in some deep trouble and directly ask him for help!"

Severus had stopped dead in his tracks and had turned around to face Draco's hopeful eyes.

"I can't do that, Draco…" he had murmured. "it's not that simple."

"Together we can, Sev, I know we can!" Draco had said firmly and stood up, his face determined. Talk about an abrupt 180. "The animal transformation should be much less complex than the human and since it isn't a full transformation, the time demanded for brewing is probably going to be significantly shortened."

Severus had looked impressed and a bit surprised by Draco's eagerness about this potion. Usually he just lazed around in the classes he was obligated to be present in, filing his perfect nails or reading a magazine. Maybe it was his little crush affecting him? Perhaps this teacher!Harry thing was not such a bad idea…

"Okay…" he had begun, but had been interrupted by Draco's jubilant shout.

"Ah, this is great, Severus!" Draco had exclaimed, eyes bright and happy behind a fringe of blonde hair. "If we use one of Morph's hairs, I'll get white ears and tail! It will so match my hair and complexion! Imagine how cute, no, _cuter_, I'm going to look!"

Severus had sighed and slapped a hand over his eyes. Then again, maybe it was not such a good idea after all. He had slid his hand slowly down his face and had tried to relax.

"You said you wanted to appear to be a beggar, right?" he had asked, raising an amused eyebrow.

"Yes?"

"Am I correct in my assumption that you know beggars are poor?"

"Don't be daft, Severus, of course I know that!"

"Am I then also correct in assuming that you do realize that you will have to _be_ poor? That you cannot bring much more than a Knut with you, and certainly not your whole wardrobe? That you must be _dirty _and wear _rags_?"

Draco's jaw had dropped to the ground, his expression horrified. He had struggled for breath and had clutched his chest, the black fabric of his pyjamas grasped tightly in his fist. He had fallen back into his seat, shock and horror still evident on his face. Severus had just hoped he had not traumatized the boy too bad. That would be a little tricky to explain to his over-protective hen of a mother.

The blonde had gotten his breathing under control again, but he had still looked quite distraught.

"Oh Merlin, no! I'm going to be as poor and inferior as those Weasley's!" he had groaned miserably, his lower lip trembling visibly and his had eyes nearly started tearing.

Poking fun at a depressed Draco had always been one of Severus' favourite pastimes. It was fun to watch a mostly grown man throw a fit worthy of a three-year-old. Well, it was fun until Draco's eyes turned all red and watery and he used his feel-sorry-for-me-voice that made Severus turn into some disgusting emotional mush every time. But, he was willing to take the chance.

"Negative, you're going to be even lower: they barely have the money to feed _nine _mouths, while you, in comparison, scarcely will have the money to feed the mouth of a mouse. Isn't it wonderful?"

Surprisingly enough, the blonde did not even smash a vase or stomp his feet like a petulant child, but rather whimpered like a kicked puppy and turned moist, kill-me-now eyes to Severus in a definitely heartbreaking manner.

"Transform me into a weasel; I might as well look my part," he had said despairingly, staring nearly cross-eyed at Severus.

"Nah, the 'bouncing-ferret' look fits you much better," Severus had chuckled, his usual mushiness avoided by the spoiled brat's ludicrous fear of dirt and bad fashion. Boy, would he have made a lousy Death Eater.

"You have better thank your father for his cunning, Draco, or else you would have been dead long ago. The Dark Lord would have killed someone like you in a heartbeat."

Draco's big, wretched eyes had immediately turned into the eyes of an angry bull that had just seen red. "That freak of a Half-Blood and his pathetic Corpse Chewers can kiss my bare arse for all I care! Thank Merlin he's dead." He had growled, not unlike a feline, making Severus wonder if he had spent too much time with his cat again. Remembering the daft cat, a third comment to torture Draco had come into mind. Poor guy.

"Oh, and Draco?"

"Yeah?"

"You do realize that you cannot bring that wretched cat of yours with you, right?

* * *

The already murderous inhabitants of the Slytherin dormitories, who had been shaken awake by a despicable banging on some surface or other, had nearly screamed in fury when a heartbreaking wail had resounded through the whole dungeon.

Peeves would be so dead in the morning.

* * *

- I know, I know... Narcissa is described as being tall, but I'm just going to ignore that bit of information and make her a dwarf XD Well.. maybe not a dwarf, but smaller "

Thanks for reading!


	3. Mission Impossible

Denial and Draco: 'Smuggle-style

Chapter 3 - Mission Impossible

Author: KawaiiKragh

Rating: T (for now, at least)

Disclaimer: Do not own, do not profit. Do not sue. -begs-

Warnings: This is slash! Meaning boy on boy. No likey, no ready. Oh, and lame, brain stealing humour… I need a life.

A/N: Waah!! -ducks rotten tomatoes- I am so so so so sorry! This is so late! My teachers have given me so much homework these past weeks that it's almost crazy! I'm not even done with my paper for Danish class yet! Gah, I'm so late with everything! And I just realised how many times I just said 'so' and how many exclamation marks I make! Gah, I'm confusing myself… Okay, sorry it's late, sorry it's crappy and sorry for… Eh.. Well, everything you think I should be sorry for, really XD

But it's loong! Probably too long -wince- Well, I have hit myself over the head already, so you don't have to XD

Chappie 3 is dedicated to Elfie because she is such a good "mood lifter" - Klap dig selv på skuldren, Elfie:b

* * *

Draco was grumpy. Good, old-fashioned, Severus-styled grumpy. He was starving, he was filthy and his attire was so not in. And not to mention cold. He was very cold. Because of those _rags, _he had to wear. Malfoys did not wear rags, but rather tailored, first-class clothing with incorporated Warming Charms and Anti-Ripping spells to prevent anything embarrassing from happening. If only his Father could see him now…

(Recap to those who cannot remember what happened in the start of the last chapter… that would be me XD)

**HPDMHPDMHPDM**

After one hard day of research through various tomes with theories and records of similar attempts as well as the difficult creation of the formula, Severus and Draco had finally been able to start brewing the adapted Polyjuice Potion. As Draco had calculated, the time needed for the brewing had been cut down to only three days because of the less complexity in the transformation, which would only be less than 10 percent of his body. (A/N: Does this make sense to you? XD)

Ignoring his complaining brain, Draco folded his arms over his chest, and tried not to notice the dreadful shirt he was wearing. The torn, baggy black pants hung of him slim hips and the hideous, grey vest-like thing that covered his torso was too short and only barely covered his navel, its seams nearly nonexistent.

He looked around the corner of the building he was standing in the shadow of, to the big clock that was attached to one of the walls of a seemingly popular building, which had a giant children's drawing of a seagull plastered all it over further up the street. He sighed impatiently when he saw that he had to wait another ten minutes. He reached into one of the pockets of his scruffy pants and brought out the paper Blaise had handed him yesterday. It was an as thorough as possible sketch of Potter's schedule for a normal weekday and a list of various places he frequently visited. He had also been able to get a vague idea of Potter's weekend schedule since he conveniently enough had fire called the lazy, but quite brilliant bum on a Tuesday night. Or Wednesday morning, whatever floats your boat.

The sluggish man had been challenged to find Potter and follow him for a couple of days, his reward being Draco's precious shampoo and those rare chocolates he loved so much - such a good offer that it would be foolish to refuse in Blaise's mind. Therefore, he forced his mostly inactive brain into function, pulled some strings and demanded a few favours of some of the people who owed him a debt and thanked Merlin for having had Muggle Studies as an elective at Hogwarts. The next day, a three-year old school picture of Harry Potter showed up in Muggle TV, the speaker asking if anyone had seen this person who had gone missing almost two years ago and pleading the viewers on the family's behalf to call this (Blaise's newly acquired phone) number.

Not two hours after the first showing of the ad, some guy named Noah had called him. Noah had told him he was not sure if the person he had seen on TV was the guy he knew, but he had given Blaise the guy's number anyway. After getting an old 'friend' to look through several phone books for him, he had finally been able Apperate to the address. After sneaking around the apartment building for a few hours, he had at last seen a changed Harry Potter walk down the stairs of the building and swiftly turned left, his mind obviously occupied with something else than where he was going. Something that indicated that he walked in this direction often, Blaise had mused and jotted a note down.

He had went home to his comfortable pillows and called the Noah guy immediately after getting home, stating that no, it was not his brother he had found but thanking the man nonetheless. Afterwards he had called the TV station he had paid for showing his ad to the public, asking them to take the ad down the day after tomorrow since it was tough on him and his family. He would not want to make Noah suspicious by taking down the ad immediately after talking to him on the phone.

Blaise had followed him for the next three days, protected by a Notice-Me-Not charm and had scribbled down all the places he went to and the typical time of the day he went there. Eventually, he had showed up in Draco's teacher quarters, a frown on his face and he had made Draco promise he would not make him so physically and mentally active again for a few years. It was taking its toll on his body, after all.

Snorting at the thought of his silly friend, he stuffed the schedule into the pocket again. With another glance around the corner, he realized it was time for his mission. He rubbed his hands in anticipation and crackled like a lunatic, by passers looking strangely at him.

Let mission: HOMELESS begin.

**HPDMHPDMHPDM**

Mission: **HOMELESS**

Humming a tone he had heard that Thomas boy hum when he was trying to pull a prank on the Weasley twins in fourth year, he fingered his wand in his pocket as he walked inconspicuously down the busy street, towards Potter's apartment block. He settled himself down beside the stone stairs that led up to an ugly, green door just as stealthily. One could never be sure around Muggles.

He brushed a fringe of very dirty, usually white-blond hair, but now dirty-blond (literally XD) out of his grey eyes with a revolted scowl as he shifted into a as comfortable as possible position on the hard pavement. He had not had a shower in nearly three days, and his hair, which was currently tucked inside a black, frayed beanie to avoid being recognized, had not felt the teeth of a nice brush in ages. It really was disgusting. Thank Merlin he never would be a real beggar.

He set out another beanie hat as Severus had instructed him to, apparently for the passing people to throw coins into. It was humiliating and degrading, but Draco would go through with it. This was his chance to get Potter's affection, and he would be damned if he did not use it to his advantage.

He began to fall into the act after a few minutes, and managed to look cute and pathetic at the same time, even with the stench that surrounded him like an armour of crap. Yummy. After about ten minutes of rather successful begging, someone finally walked out of the horrid green door of the apartment block. The man looked greatly like Potter but at the same time did not. While the old Potter had had far too unruly hair, geeky glasses and had been vertically challenged - even more so than Draco - this new Harry Potter had grown up. And boy, did he grow up good!

It took all of Draco's self-control not to drool like a toddler and molest him on the spot. He was _gorgeous. _If Draco were not already out for the inside of the bloke's pants, he most certainly would be so now.

Black, tight fitting jeans covered his long, lean legs and a studded belt snaked through the numerous loops. Black combat-boots enclosed his feet and his broad shoulders and strong chest were underneath an open checked black and white shirt thrown over a simple black T-shirt with some kind of print on it. Simple, but smexy. His black hair was still messy, but in a stylish way. He had almost chin-length bangs framing his lightly bronzed face, but the rest was only about an inch long and was sticking out from the back of his head. His vibrant green eyes were also free of the trademark black glasses and he had become tall - not tall-wow-tall, but tall. He was probably about 6' feet - positively towering over Draco, who only stood about 5'6... Okay, 5'5! Geez…

Draco could almost feel his throat tickle with the force of the suppressed growl. Damn, he looked good.

Draco hurriedly dragged his gaze back to the cracked pavement and the little bouquets ofweed. It had to look like a coincidence when Potter would come over to him, his eyes full of sympathy for his unfortunate predicament and then his arms would reach out and gently hold a weeping Draco to his chest while he… …

…passed him without as much as a glance? _What the…_

Draco stared at Potter's back (purr, _and what a nice back, purr)_ in confusion. Harry-Moral-Potter had passed a poor, homeless guy without sparing him a peek? Without trying to save his live or give him a freaking coin?!

_He must have missed me…_

He looked down at the ground again and noticed that the beanie he had set down in front of him was nearly filled with a number of different small coins. Draco crawled forward to the hat and picked a small, copper looking coin up, looking thoughtfully at it.

_I wonder how many bottles of custom-made shampoo I can buy for these things?_

Mission: FAILED

**HPDMHPDMHPDM**

Mission: **PLAY POSSUM **

Draco had been freezing his arse of, sitting motionlessly in front of the apartment block, so he had headed down to the popular building further down the street he had eyed before, the small coins jingling in one of his numerous pockets. He received a lot of pitying glances and some small girls had already given him more of the tiny round things.

He was starving!

The popular house turned out to be some sort of eating place. As he was looking hungrily through the big windows, he could see lots of young people eating what seemed to be overgrown scones with little spots on and with salad and meat in the middle. A weird combination, but then again, it were Muggles.

The yellow double doors (what was it with Muggles and ugly coloured doors, anyway?) opened and a stream of teenagers walked out, a delicious smell flooding out of the obviously warm building. He breathed in hungrily, his stomach growling violently. What he would not give for one of those strange, Muggle scones right now…

The group of teens stopped at the sound of his belly's rumbling, some of them gazing at him with dislike while most of the girls squealed loudly when they cast their eyes on him. In contrast to their shrill, eager squeals, they hesitantly approached him as if he was dangerous or mentally unstable. Che.

He could not quite keep the grin of his face at the girls' uncertainty and the boys' weird looks. Their faces looked funny. He must really look like a beggar if they were like this - Harry would notice him soon enough and take him in, and care for him, and kiss him, and pull off his shabby clothes, and…

"Would you like a burger or something, Sir?"

A tall, dark haired girl who looked at him as she would look at an equal interrupted his delicious train of thought. Merlin, Muggles were stupid. But he was famished and his stomach was complaining loudly at the lack of substance in it. Therefore, he smiled at her and nodded gratefully. The girls went inside again, giggling like… well, girls. The boys walked away, obviously not as interested as the girls. Maybe he should pretend to be mute - that way he would not be able to ask a question every Muggle would know the answer to by accident. He mentally patted himself on his back for good thinking.

A few minutes later, the brunette girl marched out of the restaurant, (A/N: Hah, restaurant my ass XD) two of those scones sprinkled with what Draco thought looked like bird seeds up close and with a red paper container of sorts with some dark liquid inside that splashed around in time with her movements. What was it with all those colours?

After thanking the girls for their troubles, he left for the little alley he had hidden himself behind earlier. The "burgers" helped him warm up and actually was actually fine, if a little o the soggy side, but the poo-coloured, bubbling and COLD fluid immediately took that warmth away. Typical.

Grumbling about Muggles and their stupid ideas, he pulled out the schedule once again. According to Blaise, Potter should be on his way home right about now. Glancing around the corner, in the opposite direction of the restaurant, he eyed the long street, searching for that strangely styled hair. He found him after a few minutes, walking leisurely en route for his apartment building along with another male, who was jumping up and down, apparently complaining about the lack of speed. The man's blonde and blue hair was ridiculously spiky, sticking up in every possible and impossible direction. He had tanned skin, was wearing a pair of loose jeans with a simple black shirt and a blue jacket, and had a smoking stick between his lips. Stupid Muggles. Draco could not see anything clear from his spot, but the guy seemed pretty well built. Draco could almost taste his jealousy on his tongue - he hoped the guy was not Potter's boyfriend or something. His plan would be pretty much botched if he was and the thought of Potter with that hyperactive guy made him suspiciously queasy. He shook of his thoughts for now - he had a show to run, after all. This time, it would work.

Once again, he rubbed his hand and laughed a soundless evil-scientist!laughter.

Everything was ready. He had discreetly put a protection charm on himself and was now searching for a suitable prey. Looking over his shoulder, he saw he had to hurry - Potter and the doped one was coming his way and would soon pass by. He had to be on the street by then.

"…Yeah, I know! And then I said, hello! Baby, would you cut that bush of yours, because I seriously can't see your tree! And then he was all like, _what?_, and I was totally like…" "…Oh my _gawd_, did you say that?! Naughty kitty!…"

_Oh yeah… Perfect._

Two giggling girls, talking loudly about a guy, big fancy car, no eyes on the road, probably next to no brains and the driver was putting some god-awful pink lipstick on her lips while still talking. Draco could not have asked for a better prey.

Casting another glance over his shoulder, Draco sighed blissfully. Really, his timing was impeccable--but then again, it was expected of him since he _was _a superior being. Harry would be right beside him when it happened, ready to kiss his tears away and marvel at his ability to stay unscratched even after such a terrible accident. He would be in awe of the elegance and mercy in which he treated the obviously responsible girls, and then he would check his body for injuries, even when he said he had none, and then he would take him to his bedroom just to be sure… _Focus, Draco, focus!_

With a feigned absentmindedness, he crossed the street as the girls sped towards him, bending over at times to pretend to be searching for those small, charming coinsand at the same time staging the 'accident' perfectly.

He screamed, fired a subtle spell at the bumper to make the girls think they hit something and fell down, artfully turning a few times without actually getting hit. The tires of the car whined loudly and attracted the attention of most of the people on the street as the girl stamped on the brakes. Several people gasped, horrified at the scene, obviously overlooking the non-existent blood. Hmm, should he add some, or would that be too dramatic?

Thank god he had such good reflexes, or he would have had to rely on his rather weak protection spell, which he did not want to test under such circumstances. Protection and Defence in general had never been one of his strong points. He peeked out of one eye, still laying on the asphalt, and glared at the black tire that was only a foot from his face. The stench of burnt rubber made him wrinkle his nose in disgust, but he still lay unmoving, closing his eye again, waiting for Potter to come out and save him… Why was it so quiet?

The street was hushed, the onlookers standing in shock, motionlessly staring as witnesses of accidents seems to do, despite their want to look away. Amazing how long people can stand flabbergasted without doing anything in such situations. It made Draco a bit mad - his arm was being squashed here!

The sound of a door flying open broke the silence and as a result raised the onlookers from their stupor. It created something akin to panic as the driver of the car that had 'hit' him, ran to his side, tears sliding down her face, making the vast amounts of mascara on her eyelashes flood slowly down her face with the salty water.

The hush from before was definitely forgotten as people ran about, unsure as to what to do and how to help. The buzz of unintelligible words from the mass of people on the street carried to Draco's ears and nearly made it near impossible for him to hear the blonde and blue haired say that things was already getting taken care of, and that it should not be made his problem but rather the driver of the car to Potter.

No freaking way. That bastard was taking Potter away, wasn't he?!

The crying girl was kneeling behind him, her knees digging into his back as she leaned forward to catch a look at his face. He lay limp as she gently lifted his head into her lap and tenderly moved his torso with her dainty hands, making his lower body move with it. The second girl had apparently also stepped out of the car, since she was standing right behind the first, holder her shoulder in a comforting grip.

Draco peeked out of one eye when he could feel the other girl give a hug to the first. He saw, as well as heard, when the blueberry of a male closed that ugly green door after holding it open to Potter. A damned gentleman to the living, but with no care of the presumed dead. Che.

Draco subtly closed his eye again, and lay completely still. When he felt the girls' eyes on him again, he let his eyes quiver lightly and released a near soundless moan of feign pain… Well, nearly feigned; his right arm and shoulder was screaming obscenities at him in his head, threatening to dismantle itself from the socket and run away with an armrest if he didn't get up and stretch soon.

The girls gasped when they heard his painful groan and the driver emitted a relieved sob as he carefully turned his head in her lap. Man, this 'act-like-you-just-got-run-down-by-a-chick' was annoying. He had other, more important things to do! Such as getting comforted by Potter in the middle of the night, getting Potter to lick all the hurting places and… _Focus!_

Dropping his troublesome act, he opened his eyes abruptly and groaned when he met the sun head-on. Figuring he would receive the best treatment if he acted just the tiniest bit in pain, he groaned again, but this time falsely.

"..ir? Sir, are you alright?!" the girl was desperate. Well. Who would not be, she had just run over a human being. Or, so she thought, Draco thought with an inward smirk. She would probably do anything to escape a Wizard Debt!

… They did not have debts. Go figure.

"What was THAT?" he asked, acting bewilderedly, blinking confusedly with his huge grey eyes.

"Oh, sir, I'm so sorry! I didn't see you, you were just suddenly there, and I totally ran over you!" Yikes, that was a shrill voice.

"Ran over me?" he inquired, looking up at the girl with an innocent and confused expression. Just add a little bit of moisture, blink tiredly…

"What can I ever do to make it up to you? Do you want money?! I have lots! Please, sir…"

"Oh, I can't accept that…" _Little cute frown plus downcast, timid eyes plus a pained whimper…_

"Of course you can, it was me that, like, drove into you! I'm _so _totally sorry!"

"I'm not getting out of this, am I?" _Big adorable eyes looking deeply into her blue ones… _

"Nope! I will give you anything you ask for!"

_Equals:_ Jackpot.

Mission: **FAILED **(_but with good results! -_Shut up, Draco. You botched it.-)

**HPDMHPDMHPDM**

Mission: **FLASHER**

It was around an hour later, four PM to be exact, when Draco knew Potter was coming out of the building once again, this time to go to work. Surprisingly enough, he had not thought of a new, brilliant idea yet. His brain was frozen. His entire body was frozen, and he just knew that when this was over, whenever that happened, he would come down with a terrible cold. It was not as if it was many minus degrees or anything, but really, rags like those he was wearing did nothing to protect against wind. Nor did they leave much to the imagination, except for maybe the pants. But that was not so bad - his body was the epitome of beauty, after all.

-insert smug smirk-

Mumbling under his breath, yet again standing in the darkening alley, he complained quietly to himself. Why did he always get these brilliant ideas? Why was he so intelligent and classy? Was it really fair for him to be so great, while others, especially the Muggles, were kneeling in the dust, and knitting for the House Elves, in comparison?

_'No, it isn't,'_ he thought with a smile. _'but it feels damned good!' _

Oh well. He was a Malfoy and allowed to have extremely selfish moments. That was what his Father had told him, and Daddy-Doo was always right!

Speaking of bright things, he just thought of the most brilliant, but primitive, idea when his eyes caught sight of a blinking light just a few feet from his hiding spot.

It was not easy to steal in broad daylight, but being the cunning Slytherin he was, it had been easily done, no matter what he may have claimed earlier on. Seriously.

"Harry, get your beautiful ass into gear!"

Draco growled deep in his throat. That damned spiky package of love and happiness was hitting on _his _Potter! Unacceptable!

"Yeah, yeah," Oh, what a fetching voice, all manly and husky. _'My, Goldie really has grown up splendidly_…'

"Just keep your pants on, will ya?"

"Ho ho, now why would I do such a thing? Taking them off in your presence usually has very enjoyable results, aye, Harry?"

_Pervert!_

How dare that little man purr like that at him! -Insert scandalized face- It was preposterous! The only one allowed to purr at Potter like that was the great Draco Malfoy! (A/N: Only me who thinks I need to _de_flate his _in_flated head? XD)

Still deeply engrossed in his sulking, Draco hoisted himself off the ground, grabbed that blinking light gadget (read: barricade light) he had stolen from the sign with the colourful stripes on before and marched out on the street while pulling the beanie over his forehead, nearly covering his eyes with the tatty fabric.

It had to be a coincidence! It had to be a coincidence when Potter would brush his body against his! It had to be a coincidence when Draco would touch his delicious butt! And it definitely had to be a coincidence when Potter would throw him on the ground, ready to have some hot, kinky, public smex right in front of Spikyboy and everyone else's eyes!

'_Focus, Draco' _he reprimanded himself. _'Focus!'_

Sneakily, sneakily as a Slytherin ninja, he sneaked out onto the still busy street, his mind still holding on to the image of Potter's soon-to-be roaming hands, despite the fact that he had just reprimanded himself to stay focused.

He was pumped full with hormones, what could he say?

Turning the thing on, foregoing to marvel like an idiot on how such a hypnotizing thing worked, he leaned back against the wall. Holding the thing in his hands, he waited for when the two men get closer. When they were on the perfect spot, Draco promptly placed the light on his beanie-clad head.

Why, you ask?

Simple: It attracted attention.

And it was the best plan he had been able to come up with on such a short notice…

…

He was cold and hungry, alright?!

"Look Harry, there's a special offer on Happy Meal at McDonald's!"

_'Oh, give me a break! This is getting old!'_

Once again, the big, great, superior, brilliant and utterly beautiful Draco Malfoy…

Botched the mission. Go figure.

Mission: **FAILED**.

**HPDMHPDMHPDM**

Mission: **COLOURFUL APPROACH **

He was getting desperate. He might have an excellent back-up plan, but the prospect of drinking a glass of foul Polyjuice was not what Draco considered enjoyable. The adapted Polyjuice Potion was even more disgusting than the original one. Not that he knew anything about how the damned thing tasted or something. Nooo, he had not done something like, say, taking a hair of the youngest Weasel and transformed into her to see if Potter was straight or gay. He also had not gleefully laughed when a panicky Potter had out right refused her - his, whatever - advances, arms flaying wildly and his eyes looking at him - her! - with big, terrified green eyes.

What an absurd idea…

Cough.

It was nearing 7 PM. He had been here for _nine. Fucking. Hours. _And it had begun to rain, why yes of course it had. Because the rain gods absolutely hated him, didn't they?! Yes, they did. Everybody hated him in this stupid Muggle world. They were just jealous of his superiority. And beauty. And cuteness. And… you get the point.

Well, not exactly everybody hated him in this world. Some old lady had been nice enough to bring him an ancient, but warm, blanket some time ago. That Muggle were not too bad. And those kids who had given him the scones with birdseeds were not too bad either. Nor were all the people who had given him money.

_'Maybe Muggles really aren't all that bad…' _he mused

Then he laughed out loud.

What a silly thought.

Argh, he had to figure out something, and soon! Potter was to arrive home any minute now! What in Merlin's name was he going to do? He was stuck! He had not thought to make some plans before going out - he trusted his intelligence to do the work for him!

Aw, shit… Potter was already walking down the street. He looked tired, but happy, and was walking leisurely down the street, oblivious to all the adoring looks he was getting from girls of all ages. Thankfully, that overgrown hedgehog was not with him.

Wah! He had to think of something! He was only a few feet from passing the alley he was currently standing in, hopping from one foot to another, wringing his hands nervously.

Letting out an anguished groan, he sprinted outside into the mass of people. Once again, he dragged the beanie down his forehead, shielding the view of his very recognizable white-blonde hair and casting a shadow over his pale, grey eyes.

He had no idea what he was going to do, but he would go with the first thing that came to mind!

Slinking up to his prey, keeping out of sight, so that his mouth was on level with Potter's ear - okay, his shoulder, but whatever! - he whispered whatever his iced up brain had come up with.

"If I said, _"You have a nice body"_, would you hold it against me?"

…

Aww, shit.

**HPDMHPDMHPDM**

In Harry's opinion, it should be safe to walk on the streets without getting bombarded with sexual innuendoes and stuff, but this person obviously wanted to liven things up a bit by whispering random, suggestive things in people's ears.

Oh well.

"People do the strangest things…" Harry muttered under his breath, not even glancing at the buffoon who was probably just some young, utterly smashed guy doing a dare or something.

Che, youth these days… He steadfastly ignored the fact that he himself probably would not be averse to doing something along the same lines.

He had not done it yet, so he was allowed to act like an old, wise man.

Period.

**HPDMHPDMHPDM**

Draco was ready to cry. No, really, he was. As Potter muttered something about the strangeness of people and walked away without a glance in his direction, Draco dropped to his knees on the ground, smacking his hands repeatedly on the asphalt in despair and childish anger. He knew that he would have to resort to the foul, fouler, foulest Polyjuice. It was going to be disgusting, but alas, it was inevitable. Besides, he had not just been chasing Potter around for nearly _ten fucking hours _just to quit when the game got a little rough on his taste buds.

Oh Merlin, his poor, poor tongue!

…maybe Potter would lick it better? Tehee…

Right!

He leaped to his feet, ran through the mass of hassled people and ducked into his little, dingy alley yet again. Changing certain parts of his anatomy to that of a cat in plain sight would probably not be listed under the term "discretion".

**HPDMHPDMHPDM**

Today had been… interesting, Harry mused as he threw himself on his black couch and absent-mindedly flipped on the TV.

Usually there weren't many beggars in his part of the city, but this day a really small one, probably only around fifteen years old, had been sitting by his apartment block, looking sadly down at the pavement, oblivious to all the coins various sympathizing people had tossed into the scruffy hat in front of him. On the other hand, maybe it had been a she? Harry was not quite sure, another black hat had obscured the hair and the face had been downcast, but the kid could have passed for both. Interesting.

However, it was not quite the beggar that made the day noteworthy, but rather the dramatic car accident that had happened right in front of his own and Spiky's eyes. Spiky had, of course, prevented him from trying to save the poor chap, since he had put it on himself to free him of his apparently "self-destructive tendency to put other people's wellbeing before his own". It reminded Harry of Hermione and the way she had dubbed the 'problem' his "hero-complex". He had not seen Hermione or Ron for a long time, but he frequently received a Muggle letter from the two lovebirds, who had been engaged since their seventh year at Hogwarts.

When he had become aware of the accident, he had been able to come out of the shocked haze before anyone else - having had a mad serial killer on your neck practically your entire life gave you those abilities. Harry had wanted to run to the kid's side and saved him or her, but Spiky, the jerk, had woken himself of the daze and grabbed his arms before he had been able to run onto the middle of the hectic street.

He had seen that the kid was already being taken care of, but had felt a sort of pull to the kid - he wanted to save the poor kid himself. Another 'problem' of his, if you asked Spiky. His inability to trust other people to do an important task, and just sit back - he laid blame on Voldie for that one too. The entire Wizarding World had wanted him to rid them off all their problems and had relied on him to complete said task - it was only natural that his head was a bit screwed up. Luckily, Spiky was just under the impression that he thought he was better qualified to complete dangerous, self-sacrificing tasks - which he was not, of course.

Honestly.

But the icing on the cake, Harry thought with a smirk as the TV flashed various colours over his skin, had been the weirdo who had whispered an obviously sexual innuendo. It had been a little funny.

That certainly never would have happened in the Wizarding World, seeing as wizards and witches practically never talked about anything even remotely related to sex. It would take a major pervert of a wizard to say something like that.

Harry shrugged his shoulders, and scowled to himself when the theme song of Beverly Hills Classic blasted through the speakers.

And to think, the day had started so nicely.

**

* * *

**

Jesus Christ, I'm still not done with the chapter. I had to cut it again o.O" Weeell, end of chapter 3 XD

Please leave a review - I would really like to hear what you think! Is it crappy or should I continue? Where do I do stuff wrong? Pointers and constructive criticism is greatly appreciated! -puppy eyes-


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